


The Girl with Eyes like a Storm

by bigsadenergy



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Action, Canon Compliant, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-12 01:25:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17457944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsadenergy/pseuds/bigsadenergy
Summary: Charles Smith thinks he’s got a grip on the van der Linde gang. That is, until an old member shows up and shakes things up. Maggie Smith is loud, angry, and can drink and shoot with the best of them. But underneath all that, Charles finds a beautiful soul with a tragic past whose demons are always out to play.





	1. Bar Fight

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I’ve ever posted on this site. Pls feel free to leave comments and stuff, I’m open to criticism. It will pick up here soon, I just wanted to introduce things. I’ll try to update as much as I can. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

Several Months Before Blackwater

Maggie had made a lot of poor decisions in her time, but robbing Colm O’Driscoll was probably one of the poorer ones. To be fair, she didn’t know she was robbing him until she was too far in to go back, but it had not been one of her wiser moments. Colm wasn’t exactly the forgiving sort, and there had never really been a lot of love lost between them. Still, robbing Colm was something that would have enough consequences to render the thousand dollars she got out of it fairly useless. After all, she couldn’t spend the money if she was dead.  
And maybe drinking her worries away in a shithole saloon in a shithole town in the middle of nowhere wasn’t one of her brighter decisions either but at that moment all that really mattered was the bottle of whiskey in front of her. Maggie had a plethora of worries to drink away, and a lifetime of bad memories she’d rather forget.  
As it happened, Maggie wasn’t the only one in the saloon that night. She was too focused on her drink she hadn’t noticed a group of men come in.  
Arthur, Charles, and Javier were celebrating something. They might not have really even known what, they were just looking for a good time. They didn’t notice the woman at the bar either, not until the evening went south.  
Neither party noticed the three Irishmen who’d focused in on Maggie while she was downing a third(ish) shot of whiskey.  
They walked up behind her, slow and casual. Now Maggie knew there was someone there, but bringing herself to care much was somewhat difficult.  
“Maggie Smith?” One of the Irishmen spoke up. The bar seemed to quiet down, enough that the three Van Der Linde gang members could hear.  
Arthur perked up when he heard the name, “Maggie Smith?” He muttered, looking over some people to get a look at her. Then he saw her, a world of memories rushing back, “I’ll be damned.”  
“What are ya talking about, Arthur?” Javier stared at his friend with some confusion.  
“Javier, that is Maggie over there! Maggie Smith!”  
Javier face turned to surprise as he too tried to catch sight of their old friend.  
Meanwhile, Maggie frowned, not even turning around to face the men addressing her. Well well well, if it isn’t the consequences of my bad decisions. These had to be some of Colm’s men, little else would explain it.  
“Whadya want? Can’t a woman drink in peace?”  
She raised the shot glass and began to pour another round when the glass exploded in her hand. One of the stupid O’driscolls had dared shoot her glass.  
“Colm wants that money back. The money you stole.”  
Maggie turned around now, sizing up the situation. She had the bottle of whiskey in one hand, and she took a swig of it before she spoke, “Money I stole? What goddamned money?”  
Maybe she could bluff her way out. Maybe.  
“One thousand dollars, to be exact,” another spoke up, “You ain’t gonna get away with it.”  
Maggie took another swig, “If I had one thousand dollars, do ya really think I’d be drinking in this shithole, no offense to the owner.”  
By this point, the saloon was silent. All the patrons were watching the events unfold.  
“Should we help?” Charles asked his friends, “She might be in a lot of trouble here.”  
“Just give it a minute, Charles,” Arthur grinned, “You don’t know Maggie, not like Javier and I do. I know that look on her face, she’ll be fine.”  
“We’ll jump in if it looks like she needs it.” Javier reassured Charles.  
“Last chance.” One of the O’driscolls said flatly.  
Maggie finished off the bottle of whiskey, “Last chance, eh?” She looked down at her boots, “Fine.”  
Before anyone could react, Maggie slammed the bottle over the head of the first O’Driscoll. It shattered and he collapsed to the ground. Then she planted a swift, hard kick in the next ones groin, when he fell to his knees, she punched him in the jaw. In only a few moments, two of the three were out of commission.  
The third was clearly the youngest, and, with more bravado than sense, he advanced on her, unafraid. Maggie dodged a few of his punches then grabbed him by the shirt collar. She, with a strength you’d never guess she had based on her smaller, feminine physique, lifted the poor sod off the ground and tossed him through the glass window.  
She stopped and looked around, as if daring anyone to test her. When no one moved, she made her way back to the bar and dropped a few coins on the table, nodding an apology at the barkeep. She turned to leave, only for a few more O’Driscoll boys to block the exit, this time with guns drawn and ready.  
Shit, Maggie thought.  
“Maggie, you ain’t getting out of here, not without an army.” The one in front said confidently, “We’ll get that money, even if we have to get it off yer corpse.”  
Suddenly, Arthur, Javier, and Charles emerged from the crowd.  
“How about this army?” Arthur smiled at the shocked O’Driscolls.  
Maggie immediately recognised the mans deep voice and broad shoulders.  
With renewed confidence, Maggie drew her revolver, “Now boys, see reason. We’re evenly matched here, but if this turns into a shoot out, a lot of people could get hurt, and your boss wouldn’t like a mess like that, now would he?”  
The four O’Driscoll boys looked at each other for a moment, then, begrudgingly, the steppes aside, clearing a path.  
Maggie lead the cautious procession out. As she passed by, one of them grabbed her arm and pulled her close, so she could feel his hot breath when he spoke, “This isn’t over.”  
He released her arm, allowing her and her friends out into the night.  
As soon as they were around the corner where the horses were hitched, Maggie let out a hooting laugh, “Boy, if there ever was a good time for you boys to show,” Maggie slapped Arthur on the back, “that was it!”  
“It is very good to see you!” Javier pulled Mags into a hug.  
“You guys, too!” She forced Arthur into a hug as well, “Jesus I been lookin for yall for months!”  
“Oh, Charles!” Arthur said, forgetting that Charles was newer to the gang, and had never met Maggie, “Charles, meet Maggie Smith, Maggie, meet Charles Smith.”  
“Ah a fellow Smith!” Maggie joked, shaking his hand, “It’s good to meet you!”  
“And you!” Charles smiled at her.  
She had to be one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He had curly brown hair that hung wildly about her face and went down to her shoulder. Her eyes were stormy gray and glittered with energy. She was tanned, like someone who spent a great deal of time in the sun, and she had freckles dusting her nose and cheeks.  
She was tall and thin, and apparently stronger than she looked. She wore high-waisted black pants with a button down shirt and a black hat decorated with beads. She wore a dirty leather duster with faint embroidered designs that matched the same charcoal colour. The jacket was old and faded and covered in mud, but it looked good on her.  
“As pleased as I am with this reunion,” Arthur interrupted, “Mags, you wanna explain what the hell you was doin, robbin Colm O’Driscoll?”  
Maggie chuckled nervously, “To be fair, I didn’t know it was his money at the time, all I knew was there was an ill guarded stagecoach with a lot of cash on board goin through some really quiet country. I am nothing if not a woman of opportunity.”  
Arthur and Javier laughed.  
“You have hardly changed.” Arthur patted her on the shoulder.  
“Mags you should come back to camp, I bet Hosea and Dutch would be happy to see ya!” Javier climbed up on his horse.  
“Absolutely! I didn’t spend all that time searching for yall just to go my own way soon as I found ya.”  
Camp was bustling with people tonight. Everyone was in a jovial mood, everyone was drinking and enjoying life. Dutch and Hosea sat in Dutches tent, scheming no doubt. They had only been expecting three riders back, so a fourth was somewhat perplexing.  
“Everyone!” Javier called out, “Mags is back!!”  
There was some confusion amongst the group. Lenny and Micah had no idea who Mags was, while Miss Grimshaw and Herr Strauss had been convinced Mags had gotten herself killed in the months since she left.  
But when Hosea saw her, he couldn’t decide if she was real or just a dream. He had raised her alongside John and Arthur, and she was like a daughter to him. When she left, it was like losing a part of himself. It was like reopening the wound that was made when John had left some years ago.  
But here she was, wayward youth returning to the fold.  
Maggie dismounted and strode over to him and Dutch.  
“Long time no see!” Dutch smiled and embraced her, “I take it New York wasn’t for you?”  
Maggie snorted, “Hated it completely. I’ll take the untamed wilderness over a city like that any day.”  
Hosea put his arm around her, “Did you find what you were looking for?”  
Hosea was the only one who knew the full story of why she left. The rest of the gang had known she was looking for family of some sort, but Hosea knew exactly what she’d been trying to find and why she’d wanted it so badly.  
Maggie had been abandoned as a baby, and taken in by an old woman who raised her up until she about twelve. It had been a source of curiosity and pain for Maggie since she could remember. Why anyone would leave a child on the street, she never understood. But when she found a hint at who her family was, she had to know. Hosea understood her desperation to know where she came from. Arthur and John had both known their parents, even if they were orphaned later. Mags had no idea, and it was only natural that she’d want to find out.  
“I met my mother, yes. She passed though, she had TB.” Maggie looked at her boots, a melancholy she’d been fighting hard against creeping up on her again.  
“You’ll have to tell me everything,” Hosea offered her a comforting smile, “but not tonight.”  
“Tonight we celebrate!” Dutch shouted and the camp cheered in unison.  
Charles watched as she greeted old friends and was introduced to Lenny and Micah (Lenny she liked, but Micah immediately made a distasteful joke which earned him a few choice and unfriendly words from Maggie). At some point, she relaxed and took off her coat, revealing her arm under her rolled up sleeve. On her right arm, Charles could now see a big, ugly burn scar, which ended at her wrist but could have stretched all the way up her arm for all he could tell. He could tell the injury would have been excruciating, and he wondered about the story behind it.  
He wondered about Maggies story in general. He knew from tidbits he picked up that she was about Johns age, and had joined the gang as a teenager. She’d been around long enough then, which was why everyone was so happy to see her. Still, Charles couldn’t understand exactly what it was about her that he couldn’t get a grip on.  
In the end, only time would tell.


	2. Bear Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Maggie go bear hunting, and get to know each other better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly a filler chapter. The next chapter will start right before blackwater so it’s all about to happen lol. Also, my editing on most of these is limited so my apologies for that.

Weeks passed quickly in the camp and Maggie became a fixture. She was always busy, always up to something, always around. Charles was intrigued by her, or at least that’s what he told himself. He found himself staring at her, he’d catch himself doing it and a little part of him died of shame each time.  
She was a good conversationalist, she and him would have deep conversations about life and death and philosophy and whatever else. Most of the time, she could be found socialising, but sometimes she would just take a bottle of whiskey and sit at the edge of camp. In those moments, she seemed sad, as if the happy outgoing personality was a facade that hid her heart.  
But as soon as he tried to breach the walls she’d put up, the sadness was gone, vanished, almost like it had never been there.  
Still, Charles enjoyed his conversations with her. He learned quickly, in a gunfight with some O’Driscolls that she had wicked aim, almost as wicked as her wit. Her and Sean were a pair of devils in the right circumstances. They were similar to each other in that mischief was second nature to them, and they had the entire camp on their toes.  
As for the money she stole from Colm, she have half of it to the camp, as is normal for jobs.  
Things slowed down as Dutch and Hosea began preparing for some big job. Dutch kept saying, “This is it! This is the one! The big one!”  
Meanwhile, Hosea and Maggie whispered in the quiet corners of camp, worry evident on their faces. They weren’t convinced.  
Charles, among others, ran out of things to do. So he turned his attention to the rumours of a giant bear terrorising a town a ways off. Somehow, he’d gotten it in his head to kill it. It would be good meat for the camp, and it was hurting people. He mulled it over in his head for a few days before he packed up his saddle bags and prepared for the journey.  
“Where ya headed?” Maggie startled him, she had an uncanny ability to walk silently.  
“Bear hunting, up by Strawberry,” he said, looking her up and down, “Wanna come? I could use the extra gun.”  
The decision to invite her was a split second one, and surprised even him. But it was genuine.  
She smiled at him, “Sure. Just lemme grab a few things, and we can head out.”  
Charles nodded and watched her walk to her tent at the edge of camp. She exchanged a few words with Hosea before going to her horse and putting a few things in her saddlebags.  
“Ready?” She called out.  
“Yep.” They both mounted their horses.  
“Lead the way.”  
They rode in silence at first, both enjoying the scenery and keeping an eye out for any trouble.  
“I grew up around Strawberry,” Maggie broke the silence.  
“Really?” He slowed his pace down a bit to ride alongside her.  
She grinned, it seemed to be a happy memory, “I was raised in a cabin up there for a good twelve years. It was peaceful and nice up there.”  
Charles liked her smile. It was pretty, it was a dangerous smile. Seeing her smile made him want to smile.  
“You lived up there with your parents?”  
“No,” she laughed a little, “I was abandoned as a baby. I was raised by an old woman. She was half Navajo, half Romani, as I recall.”  
“Romani? As in gypsy?”  
“Yeah, she taught me a lot of the customs from both sides of her family. We lived off the land for the most part. She was the kindest and smartest woman I ever knew.”  
“What happened to her?” Charles raised his eyebrows.  
“I dunno, we went to town one day and there was some kind of nasty situation and we got separated in the confusion. I hid in a barrel, I think I musta been around ten. Next thing I know I’m on a train to Chicago.”  
“That’s an awfully rough place for a ten year old to be alone.”  
“I made sure I guess. Taught myself how to pickpocket. I was small enough that if I got caught I could just run and get lost in the crowds.”  
Charles frowned, “I’m sorry to hear that, Mags.”  
Maggie laughed loudly, “It’s not a big deal, least, not anymore. I was on the streets for a while but then Dutch and Hosea found me,” she looked off into the distance, and for a moment Charles could see a sliver of that sadness, “Sometimes I think that one day, I’ll start a life like that again. Isolated in the woods, livin off the land. Raise some kids that way. Maybe I’m a fool.”  
Charles chuckled, “And how does that make you a fool?”  
“I think it might just be foolish to believe a gal like me could ever have a life like that, to fool myself into thinking I even deserve it.”  
They sighed in unison, “It doesn’t sound that foolish to me. It sounds wonderful, actually.”  
Maggie looked at him, “Ya know, Charles, you are something else. You’re all strong and silent, while I’m over here yapping on all day. We sure seem like an odd pair, but here we are.”  
“Here we are.” Charles repeated softly.  
That night, they camped in the woods outside Strawberry. Charles caught a rabbit and Maggie cooked it up. They chatted some as they ate. It started to get late, and Maggie laid back on her bedroll. She didn’t close her eyes, just watched the stars and hummed softly to herself. Charles couldn’t quite place the tune, but it sounded familiar.  
Charles closed his eyes and drifted off to the sound.  
He awoke to snoring. Who knew a girl like her could snore so damn loud. It was worse than Bill or Uncle. It was worse than even Micah, who snores like a monster. And it was utterly confusing to wake up to.  
Charles sat on his bedroll for a while, watching the sun rise higher and stoking the fire while making coffee. Eventually, Maggie shifted in her sleep and stopped snoring.  
It was still early when Maggie did wake up. Charles had established after a few days of knowing her that she was not a morning person. She tended to sleep til well into the morning, or later if she could get away with it.  
When she woke up, she did not look happy about it. Nor did she look very awake at all.  
“Coffee?” Charles held a filled mug out to her.  
“Please.” She groaned and took a huge sip, “So how far out are we? I imagine we’re getting pretty close to this bear are by now.”  
“There’s a mountain path just past Strawberry that diverges from the main road,” Charles said as he stood up and began rolling up his bedroll, “That should take us close. We’ll have to track him from there.”  
“Well,” Maggie downed the last sip of her coffee and stood up groggily, “We’re burning daylight, I guess.”  
They packed up camp and headed out. Sure enough, they came upon a mountain path just off the main road, exactly as Charles said.  
“Have you spent much time in this country, Charles?”  
Charles raised his eyebrows, “Some, yes. Why do you ask?”  
“You just seem to really know your way around here.”  
“I’ve always been something of a wanderer. Been all over the place,” he slowed his horse, “Hey, here look at that print in the mud.”  
“That’s one hell of a bear,” Maggie got off her horse and examined the print.  
“Looks fresh, too, we should go on foot from here.” Charles dismounted too.  
Tracking the bear wasn’t too hard. It had recently rained and the tracks were recent enough.  
Maggie was a decent tracker, better than Charles had expected.  
Still, it was slow going. It seemed as though the trail picked up and dropped off suddenly and erratically. He blamed that on the current weather, which was windy and drizzly.  
Then it happened. They were examining the area looking for where the track picked up again.  
“Most of this looks like it was done by deer,” Charles stared at the berry bush with mild frustration.  
Somewhere behind him, he heard Maggie stumble then shriek.  
“Mags?” He turned around to see her lose her balance and slide down the gravely hill, “Maggie!”  
“Charles?” He heard her croak after a few moments.  
Relief flooded him. She hadn’t fallen too far, “You okay, Maggie?”  
“Charles, uh, I found the bear...”  
Charles scrambled to the edge to get a look at what she was seeing.  
She had landed on a small, rocky plateau, only a few feet from a giant napping grizzly.  
“Jesus,” Charles whispered, “Okay Mags stay quiet, I’m coming down.”  
Charles managed to make his way down without slipping. Maggie watched the bear intently, rifle poised.  
“So what do we do?” Maggie frowned, “Just shoot it?”  
“I thought you said you’ve hunted before.”  
“Deer and rabbits mostly. Never a bear.”  
Charles rolled his eyes, “Fine. Okay, I’ll go around the other side and distract him. Soon as you get a good shot at the neck or head, you go for it.”  
“That is something I can manage.”  
Charles nodded then began to sneak around it. A few moments later, a rock flew from somewhere to Maggie’s left and hit the bear in the face. It woke, looking around. Maggie sunk deeper into her hiding spot, praying this would go right.  
Another rock. The bear stood and growled in the direction it came from. It began to rotate a little, and Maggie saw her mark. She steadied her rifle and took a deep breath. Always fire on empty lungs. She wasn’t sure why she remembered suddenly Dutch and Hosea teaching her to shoot. Her mind was wandering, she needed to do this now. She took another breath and pulled the trigger.  
The bullet did not have the desired effect. It buried itself in the meaty flesh on the beast neck. It whirled around towards her and started charging. Maggie shot again and again, until it finally collapsed.  
Eyes wide, she reminded herself to breath. That had not been the plan at all.  
“You okay?” Charles asked for the second time in their whole little adventure.  
Maggie looked at him, grinning wildly, “We did it!” She danced around a little, making Charles laugh.  
“Come on, lets skin this monster.”


	3. On the Cold Mountian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the gang heads through the Grizzlies, Maggie scouts behind them, ensuring they aren’t being pursued. But when she doesn’t return, Charles, Arthur, and Lenny go looking for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading all this. I wasn’t really expecting this chapter to go the way it did, but I’m really happy with it, so.

Charles watched Maggie shuffling the cards. She’d been doing that again and again for a while now. Nerves probably. Everyone was nervous. The night before a big job did that.   
“Whatcha doin, Mags?” Lenny asked.   
“Tarot cards.” She responded flatly.   
“Tarot cards? What’re those?”  
Maggie tilted her head back and laughed, “Fortune telling cards, Lenny. Wanna know your future?”  
“Should I be afraid?” Lenny sat down across from her.  
“Probably not.” Maggie set to shuffling them again, then she handed them to Lenny.   
“What do I do with them?” Lenny held them like they were dynamite about go off.   
“Shuffle em, they ain’t gonna bite.”   
Lenny did so, then Maggie took the deck back and spread the cards out across the table.  
“Pick three.”   
Lenny picked three, eyeing each one suspiciously.   
Then Maggie set aside the three he’d picked and collected the rest of the deck. She laid the three cards out between them.   
“This card,” she said, dragging one long finger across the one she was referring to, “represents your past.”  
Lenny chuckled nervously, half expecting Maggie to start summoning a demon or something.   
Maggie flipped the card, “Death.” She giggled at the horror on Lenny’s face, “The death card means closure. You’ve recently joined this gang and closed off the last portion of you life. You’re in a new era, but you aren’t sure if you’re ready to let go of everything in the past. You need some form of closure.”  
Lenny seemed to relax a little as Maggie began to flip over the next card, “This card is your present position... the three of cups!” She grinned.   
“What does that mean, is it good?”  
“Oh Yeah, the three of cups is about friendship and feeling like you belong. You’ve found a family of sorts, and it is a time of joy and happiness for you!”  
“Phew,” Lenny sighed, “so this last one is future, then?”  
Maggie nodded, and was about to turn it over when Micah strode over.   
“What are you rats up to?” He sneered, “What is this crap?”  
“Ah fuck off, Micah.” Maggie was always very short with him.   
“Come on, sweet cheeks, ain’t ya happy to me?”  
Maggie drew her revolver and pointed it at him, “I said fuck off.”  
“Jesus woman,” Micah wandered to the other side of camp.   
“As I was saying,” Maggie flipped the last card, “The tower.”  
Charles had moved closer and he could see the designs on the cards.   
Death was an ominous skull, while the three of cups showed three birds and lots of bright colours. The tower, however, depicted a castle being destroyed by a strike of lightning.   
“The tower represents unexpected upheaval. It’s chaos and confusion and difficulties,” Maggie trailed off, examining the card intently, “but something tells me you won’t be in this alone.”   
The whole group that had gathered around them was silent. No one was sure what to say to that last omen.   
Finally, Hosea broke the silence, “Stop scarin us all, Mags! You’re a right downer sometimes.”  
“Eh,” she frowned, “They’re just cards. Nothin to worry about. Everybody, back to whatever you was doin.” She looked reassuringly at Lenny.   
Somewhere, Javier strummed a tune on his guitar and the camp settled into a slightly tense quiet.   
“Ya know he’s sweet on ya, right?” Sean interrupted Maggie’s anxious drinking.   
“Who? What?” She squinted at him.   
“Charles. He’s sweet on ya. He isn’t exactly subtle about it, lass.”  
Maggie looked at where Charles was sitting, whittling. She said nothing, but her mind was racing. 

*Several days after Blackwater*

Maggie’s fingers felt like they were freezing off. She tried to distract herself with warm memories: her nana who used to call her “little bird” while she baked sweets, sitting with Charles by the camp fire, a cozy cabin in the woods with her ex-fiancé. Anything of that sort, but it was hardly enough. It didn’t change that everything had gone horribly wrong.   
Images of the massacre at Blackwater still followed her, adding to the lifetime of bad memories she liked to drink away but still saw at night. Faces of people she’d killed, and so much blood.   
Had she chosen this life, or had it been chosen for her?  
“You alright?” Charles rode up beside her, looking at her with deep concern. Maybe she’d been muttering, she did that absentmindedly sometimes. Or maybe she’d just looked sad.   
“I’ll be much better once we find a warm place to hide out.”  
Charles laughed a little, although no one really felt like laughing, “I bet the same could be said for everyone.”  
“How’s that hand?”  
“It’ll be fine.”   
“Remind me when we stop, I have some herbs that would help sooth the burn.”  
Charles smiled at her, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”  
“Arthur found a place for us to camp!” Hosea called to them from up ahead. They’d been riding behind, keeping an eye out behind the caravan, just in case.   
“Thank god,” Maggie muttered.   
“Maggie!” Dutch called out, “Will you ride out behind us and make sure we haven’t been followed. Maybe see if you can find anything.”  
“Of course, Dutch.”  
“Don’t stay out too long, though.” Dutch frowned.   
“We wouldn’t want you freezing to death,” Charles patted her on the shoulder before watching her ride out into the snowy night.   
When they got to Colter, Charles lay awake for a bit. Dutch and Arthur returned with Arthur and a widow they found in tow. Eventually Charles fell into a fitful sleep, worry for Maggie making it hard.   
When Charles woke, he was cold. Arthur and Dutch were sitting by the fire place, talking in hushed tones.   
“Did Maggie come back?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe.  
Dutch looked at Charles sympathetically, “Not yet. I’m sure... I’m sure she’s alright.”  
“Dutch, there are O’Driscolls around. We should send someone to look for her.”  
Charles’ eyes went wide, “O’Driscolls? Dutch, if they find her, they’ll kill her!”  
Dutch sighed, “Arthur, take Lenny and go find her. She probably just had to find a place to hunker down for the night.”  
“I’m coming!” Charles said sternly.   
“Charles, you’ve burnt your hand.” Arthur reasoned.   
“I’m a good tracker. Let me come.”  
Arthur looked at Dutch for support, but he just shrugged, “Fine. But be careful.”  
The two men marched outside.   
“Lenny!” Arthur barked, the boy was taking to Pearson, “Mount up. We’re gonna go look for Maggie!”  
They rode out to where Maggie turned to scout behind them. The faint impressions of her tracks could be seen, thank goodness.   
The tracks followed the path the caravan took for a good ways. They diverged in a place where the tracks of two other horse found the track, and all three sets went into the snowed-in woods.   
“If these tracks are Pinkertons, we’re screwed.” Lenny muttered.   
“Whoever they are, Maggie might already be screwed.” Charles felt small amounts of panic rising in his chest. He told himself it was only because he cared about her, they were friends. But whatever he felt for Maggie, he’d never felt anything like that before.   
They came to a small clearing. The first thing they noticed was the snow stained with blood. Charles looked around and saw a mass of something, partially covered in snow. The blood trailed in that direction.   
“There!” He pointes to it and dismounted, hurrying in that direction.   
When he got closer to it, he could see clearly that it was a horse. Furthermore, it was Puck, which was Maggie’s horse. Her saddle and everything. She was nowhere to be found.   
“Oh god,” Lenny muttered.   
“He was shot a few times before he went down,” Charles looked around for more tracks.   
There was an imprint in the snow near the horse, “She was on the horse when he fell, but there are foot prints headed that way. Which means, at the time this was happening, she was still alive. Come on,”  
Charles was back on Taima in moments, following the footprints as fast as he could. They zigzagged between trees, and he could see the splintering of the wood where bullets had been fired. This had been a bloody fight, and an uphill one for Maggie. Two against one, and she was on foot. Charles shuddered, the odds weren’t very good.   
A little ways up, they found the body of one of the horsemen. It was somewhat relieving that he wasn’t a Pinkerton. He wore a big cloth mask, a trademark of O’Driscolls. He’d taken multiple shots to the chest.   
After another 10 minutes of following the trail, the came to a little cave, carved out in the side of the mountain. The footprints led into the cave, the hoofprints stopped right at the edge, then lead away. Not a good sign.   
A theory began to form in Arthur’s head. Maggie had gone into the cave, hoping to get an advantage on her pursuer. He had followed her in, killed or incapacitated her, then left. It chilled him to his core, even more so than the cold weather.   
“Whatever we find in there, Charles,” Arthur said soothingly, “Stay calm.”  
Charles nodded and headed into the cave. It went in pretty far before it split into two sections. There wasn’t much gravel on the floor, so it was nearly impossible to find any prints.   
“Charles and I will go right, Lenny, go left.” Arthur ordered. He wanted to keep an eye on Charles, he wasn’t sure what they were going to find down here, “Stay alert.”  
The right path got very steep very suddenly. Arthur was leading now, and he slid down, yelping at the unexpected drop. Charles was close behind him, not having nearly enough time to react.   
“You alright?” Arthur asked, holding up his lantern and looking around.   
“Yeah, you?” Charles looked at Arthur when he didn’t respond, “Arthur what is it?”  
Arthur’s eyes were wide, fixed on the wall next to them. Charles turned his head to see what he was staring at.   
The wall was covered in blood spatter. There were drag marks on the floor, someone had dragged a body further into the cave.   
Icy tendrils formes around Charles and Arthur’s hearts. This didn’t bode well.   
“I should never have let her go alone,” Charles whispered.   
“We don’t know that it’s her blood. Let’s follow the trail and see what we can find.”  
The both got up slowly and dusted themselves off before following the bloody marks further into the cave. Charles was down on one knee, examining the drag marks at a turn when the sound of a shotgun came from behind them. Arthur felt it at the back of his head.   
“Turn around real slow, now boys,” it was a feminine voice, and a very familiar one.  
“Maggie, it’s us!” Charles yelled.   
The shotgun she’d been holding to Arthur’s head dropped to the ground. Charles turned around to look at her. She looked exhausted and she was covered in blood. She had a few cuts on her face, and a bloody bandage tied tightly around one arm. She took a limping step forward and fell into Charles’ arms.   
“Thank god it’s you. I though you might have been more O’Driscolls come to finish me off.” She whispered into his shoulder.   
“It’s okay, you’re safe now. Are you hurt?” Charles pulled her away to look her up and down for injuries.   
“Hurt my leg a bit when Puck fell, but it’s not broken. I’m just tired, Charles, so tired. I didn’t sleep all night.”  
“Thank god you’re okay,” Arthur muttered, “We we’re afraid you were dead.”  
“Guys! Guys! Are you okay?” Lenny came barrelling through the cave shouting at the top of his lungs. He stopped short when he saw Maggie, limping and covered in blood, but otherwise alive and unharmed.   
“Jesus Mags, you look like hell.”  
“Thanks Leonard,” Maggie said sarcastically.   
Charles laughed, “Come on now, let’s get you warmed up and fed.”  
Maggie rode back to camp with Charles. She sat right behind him, relishing his warmth. They went and retrieved her saddle from Puck and let her say goodbye to the steed that had served her well for just over a year. Then they went home.   
The rode in mid afternoon. Dutch was outside, and waved wildly when he saw them.   
“Maggie! Maggie, thank goodness you’re alright!”  
Hosea emerged from one of the cabins, “Good god, Maggie are you alright? What happened? Where is your horse?”  
“I’m fine Hosea. I was about to turn and come back when a few O’Driscolls came riding out of the woods, and one of em recognised me. Chased me, shot Puck out from under me, but they didn’t survive the encounter.”  
“Well we’re glad you’re alright,” Dutch came and patted her on the back, “Pearson! Get her the warmest meal you can! Why don’t we get you warming up by a fire, alright?”  
“Sounds good to me.”


	4. Lets Rob a Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang robs Cornwall’s train. Maggie starts to gain Sadies trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this one really fast lol.

Maggie was antsy. It had become clear. The things that needed doing weren’t things she usually did much of. Dutch wouldn’t let her go raid Colm O’Driscolls camp with the few others. She had done some hunting, but Charles was worried sick about her going out and getting hurt again.   
One thing she could do was tend to any injuries. She had always had a knack for that, her nana had taught her much about herbal medicines and healing. She tended to Charles’ hand, and when they found John, she stitched up his wounds and kept them clean. She looked after Mrs. Adler, the widow who’d recently been brought I to the camp.   
Mrs. Adler was hesitant to trust anyone, but Maggie knew she’d feel more comfortable around women than men at this point. So Maggie approached her slowly, and kept her fingers gentle as she made sure Mrs. Adler was healthy and unharmed. Soon enough, the woman felt fairly comfortable around Maggie. She didn’t trust her, not by any stretch of the imagination, but she knew Maggie had no plans to hurt her. She knew all Maggie wanted to do was help.   
One day, while Maggie was combing through Sadies hair and braiding it, she got it into her head to try something.  
“Mrs. Adler?” Maggie began, breaking the silence in the small cabin, which was currently occupied only by the two of them, Charles, and Tilly.   
“Call me Sadie, if you like.”  
“Sadie,” Maggie said, “I know you’ve been through a lot. I understand what you might be feeling right now, and if you ever wanna talk to someone, I’m here. I’m here for anything you might need.”  
Sadie said nothing, just nodded a little.   
Maggie waited a moment, and when she got no response, she kept talking, “Ya know, I was almost married once. Didn’t work out, but I loved him. I loved him so much. And when things get rough, I still put myself back in that little cozy cabin in the woods. That place still makes me think of home.”  
No one said anything still, and Maggie didn’t speak any more, she just began to sing softly as she braided Sadie’s hair. It was soothing, Maggie’s singing. Her voice was calming and pretty. Charles recognised the words as a common lullaby. He closed his eyes and imagined she was singing to him and him only. 

“Maggie, would you like to come on this train job too?” Dutch asked her while she fitted her saddle onto the horse Arthur had found (or stolen from the O’Driscolls) for her.   
“Is that even a question? Of course I’m coming,” She said, leaving no room for argument, “but Dutch, are you sure about this?”  
“Are you doubting me, Magnolia Smith?”  
It was rare anyone used her full name, and it caught her off guard, “No, Dutch,” she laughed, “of course not. I’m just worried, is all. After Blackwater, and losing Davey and Jenny... I’m just worried.”  
Dutch sighed, “I know. We’re all worried, but we need money. We’ll be alright.”  
Maggie nodded and mounted her horse, “Then let’s ride.”  
And like that, they were off. She rode near the back with Charles and Arthur, listening to Dutch’s speech. Despite his assurances that all would be well, Maggie worried. Hosea worries and he shared his worries with Maggie. And when Hosea worries, it made Maggie worry.   
She looked up at Charles, a determined line set into his lips. He didn’t seem to be worried. Maggie envied his ability to separate himself from his emotions when he needed to get something done. If he had been worried, and she knew he had been from their conversations, you wouldn’t be able to tell now. Maggie’s mind drifted so easily sometimes. She was often distracted by errant thoughts and now was one of those times.   
The crew came upon the cliff overlooking the tracks. Bill was setting up the dynamite down below. Arthur went down to help him then came back.   
The sound of a train came from around the corner.   
“This is it, ladies and gentlemen. Remember the plan!” Dutch shouted as everyone brought the bandanas over their faces.   
The train began whooshing by and Bill pushed down on the trigger.   
...  
And nothing happened.   
“Shit!” Maggie shouted, sliding off her horse ahead of everyone.   
“I thought you said it was all good!” Dutch shouted.   
“Oh so it’s my fault?” Arthur retorted before following behind Maggie.   
Maggie took a flying leap off the cliff and hit the top of the train with a thud. Arthur landed a little behind her and Lenny slid off the side.   
Arthur helped her to her feet and together they pulled Lenny up.   
“I don’t think anyone else made it,” Arthur looked around.   
“We need to stop the train,” Lenny began walking to the front.   
The dropped down to the platform in between the cars. Arthur led, Maggie watched their backs. They took it car by car. The train was fairly well guarded, but they were still handling things well enough.   
They made their way through one of the last storage cars, Arthur and Lenny just ahead.   
Suddenly something hard rammed into her, knocking her to the ground. She felt strong hands wrap around her throat as she felt around frantically for her gun. A fist hit her face and she cried out with what breath she had.   
Then the weight on top of her vanished with a blunt sound then a man crumpling somewhere to her left. Arthur’s face appeared above her while she coughed air back into her lungs.  
“Hey, hey, you okay?” He had an arm around her shoulder as she sat up.   
“I’m alright, I just need a second to breath. Go stop the train.”  
Arthur nodded and continued on. Maggie let herself breath for a few seconds the stood and put a bullet in the head of the man who choked her.   
“Sick bastard.”  
The train began screeching to a halt and Maggie followed Arthur and Lenny off the train and into the cover of nearby boulders.   
The remaining train guards shot at them. Maggie kept fighting though. Shoot, duck back to cover, shoot, duck, shoot, duck, reload, shoot.   
A gunfight like this felt very mechanical to her. It requires little brainpower, but it still kept her focus, especially when a bullet whizzed by her ear, close enough for her to feel the rush of air.  
She ducked back behind the rock while another bullet flew through the air where her head had been moments earlier.   
She heard the sound of horses and she knew backup had arrived. With the whole crew, they made quick work of the remaining guards.   
When it was clear, Maggie appeared from her cover. She could almost feel the relief on Charles’ face when he saw her.   
“How’d it go?” Dutch asked Arthur.   
“Good. Kid did good.” He patted Lenny on the back, “And Maggie’s aim came in handy. Wouldn’t wanna be on the wrong side of her gun.”  
“Hehe, neither would I,” Dutch agreed, “Come on, the bonds are in the last car.”  
Dutch could hold a conversation with a brick wall, his charisma was impressive. Maggie could be charismatic if she tried, but it usually stretched about as far was her patience, and that was something she never had much of.   
She watched as Charles and Arthur blew the door off Cornwall’s private car, and she stood outside watching the previous occupants while a few others went through it looking for valuables.   
“Found em!” Arthur shouted from inside. He came out and handed a pile of papers, the rail bonds, to Dutch, “They worth something?”  
“Absolutely. Mister Morgan, Miss Smith, deal with these gentlemen here, and the train, please.”  
“Do ya want us to kill em?” Maggie asked.   
“It’s up to you. Just make sure they don’t say nothing. When ya get back to camp, we’ll be moving on.”  
Maggie nodded and watched them leave. Charles squeezed her shoulder before mounting Taima.   
“Alrighty boys!” She shouted, switching suddenly from quiet to loud and angry, and startling the men, Arthur, and even herself a bit, “Yall get on that train.”  
“I’ll go get it moving, if my friend her gets any trouble from ya, she’ll kill ya.” Arthur barked before making his way to the front of the train.   
“Well get a move on! I wasn’t asking!” Maggie shouted, pointing her revolver at the three terrified men.   
She hated this part of the job, the terrified people. The killing. She could do it, she could handle it, but that didn’t mean she liked it.   
She watched them file on, and when one hesitated, she shot a few bullets near his feet.   
“Move it!”  
The train started up again, and she watched it move away while Arthur came back to her.   
“Come on, Mags. Let’s go.”


	5. Hypocrisy of Bounty Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Maggie go bounty hunting, and Charles learns more about Maggie’s mysterious past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this is a long one. I’ll be doing some editing on previous chapters soon and this one.

Horseshoe overlook was a nice enough, safe enough place to lie low. But not for too long. If they stayed too long, things wouldn’t end very well. They were all still reeling from the mess at Blackwater. It took the gang a few days to relax when they arrived, but they were safe enough.   
Something had changed between her and Charles up in those mountains. Something about his fear of losing her had changed things and she was reminded of what Sean had told her right before Blackwater. Could it be true? Was it possible that Charles was sweet on her? Was she sweet on him?  
But questions like that led her to deeper questions from the depth of her traumas.   
Did she deserve to be loved? Could she be loved? Could she ever love again? Trust like that again?  
She wanted to, but icy tendrils of fear wrapped around her heart at the thought.   
She sat at the camp fire, eyeing Charles when she thought he wasn’t looking, sipping a bottle of whiskey.   
Nearby, Bill and Javier whispered to each other, just out of earshot of Maggie and Charles.   
“She’s definitely checking him out, again.” Javier said, nudging Bill with his foot.   
“They trade looks like that all day long.”  
“25 bucks says they get together.”  
Bill laughed loud enough to earn strange looks from everyone else, “They might be fearless killers and thieves, but they ain’t ever gonna figure out that the other feels the same way, they’re too scared.”  
“It is on.”  
Meanwhile Micah sat down nearby, drunkenly.   
“Say, Maggie, I heard a rumour you were engaged once.”  
Maggie groaned, “Yeah. And?”  
“I just uh... well why didn’t ya marry him? He cheat on ya? He find out yer a dirty whore?”  
“Shut up Micah!” Lenny spat.   
“Oh what, you fuckin her? Keep yer mouth shut ya stupid n-“  
Micah didn’t finish what he was saying, Maggie grabbed him by the shirt collar, yanked him to his feet and slammed him against a nearby tree with her knife digging into his throat.   
“Now listen here you rat,” she hissed, “Dutch would be pissed if I did anything to ya, but that don’t change the situation. See, there’s something of hierarchy in this here gang, and you ain’t on top. Remember that. And don’t ever speak to me, or Lenny, or anyone else like that again,” she released him, “No get outta my sight.”  
Micah stumbled away nursing a bruised ego, “Yer gonna regret that one, bitch!”  
Maggie drew her pistol and peppered a few shots at his feet, causing him to jump to avoid losing a toe.   
Charles remembered what Arthur said when they robbed that train: Wouldn’t wanna be at the wrong end of her gun.   
Maggie sat down again, looking generally pissed off.   
“He’s an ass, Mags. He ain’t worth the bullets,” Lenny frowned.   
She laughed in response, “it was worth the look on his face. I bet he wet ‘imself.”  
That made the rest of them chuckle.   
“Maggie,” Lenny started, “Remember when you read my fortune?”  
“Yeah,” She said, looking up from her drink, “what about it?”  
“I guess I been thinking, I believe you may have predicted that whole disaster at Blackwater.”  
Maggie scrunched her face up in thought for a second.   
“She’s the real deal Lenny,” Javier watched them, “She’s done shit like that before. She just knows.”  
Maggie shook her head, “I just listen to the cards. I dunno if they really predict the future or not.”  
Charles watched her. How quickly her moods could change. He understood what he felt for her, but he wondered about the wisdom of it. He realised sometimes that he hardly knew a thing about her. The ugly burn scar on her arm had to have a story behind it, but no one mentioned it. Apparently she’d been engaged once, but she never really spoke about it. Charles knew they must have been painful topics, but it made him wonder about her. How stable was she? She could snap like the flip of a switch, then with another she was fine again.   
Maggie nodded to everyone, then got up and went to her tent. When we was out of earshot, Charles asked the question he’s been wanting to ask for a long time.   
“Javier, he began, watching the other man perk up, “What happened with her ex-fiancé?”  
Javier sighed, “Ah, amigo, it isn’t a nice story.”  
“It’s just, I’ve heard it mentioned a few times, but I don’t understand it.”  
“To be honest,” Javier sat up, “I don’t know that much. I was pretty new to the gang around that time. She met him in some little town in California. I never liked him much, but he had her wrapped around his finger like that,” Javier snapped his fingers, “After a few months, he proposed. She was young and smitten. She said yes, moved to a little cabin in the woods with him. Few months later, with limited contact, she turns back up at camp. Came back with that burn, from her wrist to her shoulder. Something happened but I think only Hosea and Dutch really know what.”  
“Jesus,” Lenny’s voice was barely above a whisper.   
“I always had a theory,” Bill said, “That he hurt her or something. She was young, but she ain’t ever been stupid. She wouldn’t put up with that shit, maybe she tried to leave an’ they fought. Maybe things got violent an’ maybe a candle got knocked over or something.”  
“She wasn’t really the same for a while,” Javier interrupted, “Maggie changed after that. Eventually she got that joy and mischief back, but she still isn’t the Maggie we knew before all that. Whatever happened, it broke her heart and her trust. Broke her spirit.”  
Charles shuddered at the thought of someone hurting Maggie, the thought of getting a scar like that. It must have been agonising.   
“Why didn’t you like him?” Charles asked.   
Javier shrugged, “He was pretty well-to-do, and I never thought he treated her right. He didn’t love her, not like she loved him. Always felt like her looked at her more like a trophy than much else.”  
“Like she was some tamed wild animal to show off.” Bill muttered.   
The thought of it definitely made Charles’ blood boil. How dare a man treat her like that. It may have been years ago, but there was a part of him that hoped the man had burned.   
The next morning, the camp was quiet. Maggie was saddling her horse when Charles approached her with a cup of coffee.   
“Where ya headed?” He asked, holding it out to her.   
She took it gratefully and sipped, “Up into the mountains again, bounty hunting,” she sighed and took another sip, “it can be rough work, and it’s kinda hypocritical, but it pays. I could use another gun if you wanna tag along. I’ll split the pay.”  
Charles nodded, “Sure. I always enjoy riding with you.”  
“For some reason,” Maggie joked, “Well get your stuff and mount up. Times a wasting.”  
Riding towards the mountains again felt wrong. Neither much liked the idea of being up there again, but supposedly the guy they were looking for was hiding out up there. His name was Adam Hubert, he was mostly a degenerate killer. There was one hundred dollars in it for anyone who brought him in alive.   
They chatted idly as they rode. It took most of the morning to even get to the path that sloped up into the Grizzlies.   
Maggie watched Charles. She couldn’t help but smile just a little when she saw him. He was just pretty. Charles was a man you could describe as pretty. His long hair, his kind eyes, even the scar on his chin.   
Maggie had never been very good at romance, and she was a little out of practice. She hadn’t much tried for it in a long time. She could seduce a man long enough to nick his wallet but dealing with a crush was something else entirely.   
The wind turned cold as they began their assent. They both donned winter coats and began to ride in silence, the mountains cast a grim spell over both of them.   
“God I hate the cold!” Maggie muttered angrily after a particularly frigid gust of wind. She tugged her gloves over her hands and wound a scarf Hosea had given her years ago around her neck.   
“Don’t we all.” Charles flared up at the path in front of him, “Just remember, this was your idea.”  
“I know, I know,” she grumbled, “Reminds me of this time, when John and I were younger. I got it into my head to steal Dutch’s horse, and John being John, he helped me do it. We took him for a ride but we got too far from camp. Got hopelessly lost. It was the dead of winter, and John was convinced we were gonna freeze to death. So Arthur and Hosea track us down, both deeply disappointed and also mildly entertained.”  
Charles chuckled, “How did you end up in this gang? I know you were a teenager, but there’s gotta be a story.”  
Maggie laughed that brilliant laugh of hers, “Oh there’s a story alright. I tried to rob Dutch!”  
“You what now?”  
“You heard me. I was a pickpocket and we were in Chicago. I saw Dutch, he looked like a distracted rich man to me, so I went for it. Nicked his wallet out of his pocket and tried to disappear in the crowd, but he caught me. Grabbed my wrist, I wasn’t expecting to get caught. I wriggled free and ran into an alley with his wallet, I was trying to lose him. He had Arthur and John with him, and they chased me down. Cornered me and I just started sobbing. I guess he saw how thin I was or how dirty I was. I wasn’t exactly in great shape. He took me in, gave me shelter and food. If it wasn’t for Dutch, I’d be dead now.”  
Charles visualised a puzzle in his head, the puzzle that was Maggie Smith. Bits and pieces of her story, of who she was coming together to form a clearer image.   
“You, Arthur, and John are some of the original members then.”  
“Yeah, we came first. We stuck around for the most part. Loyalty means a lot to Dutch, to we stay loyal, even in the face of a bad situation.”  
Charles thought about it all. Joining a gang like this at such a young age, Dutch would have had a great influence on the way they think. Not that he had any real malicious intent, besides building outlaws, but he still formed a group of people who unwaveringly trusted and believed in him. He got them thinking like him so they never knew to think another way. But even now, he saw that somewhere, something in each of their minds wasn’t so sure anymore. Blackwater had shaken all their worries and doubts loose.   
Faith. Dutch was always saying have some god damned faith. Charles and Maggie were trying, they all were trying. But fear was like the icy chill that creeps into your bones all winter long.   
They found an abandoned cabin to hide out in for the night. Charles lit up a small fire while Maggie pulled out provisions. The woman planned ahead, that was for sure. Her saddle bags were packed with extra food and medicines. She knew the worst could happen at any time. She handed Charles a can of peaches and began working on one of her own.   
“Javier said you asked about my ex-fiancé.” Maggie said as she ate.   
Charles sighed, “Mags, I’m sorry. I know it’s a personal subject, I shouldn’t have pried.”  
“No, Charles, it’s alright. I get it, I’d be curious too. The truth is, he wasn’t a good man. I wanted him to be but I couldn’t change him. I guess he was what I deserved. He owed some bad men a lot of money and one night they came to the house. He told me to go upstairs. I did, but I grabbed my sawed-off just in case. They killed him, beat him to death. Came for me. I don’t know what they were planning but I certainly didn’t intend to find out. Turned into a nasty shootout. Candle got knocked over and caught a rug on fire and it spread through the rest of the house. I barely made it out.”  
Charles was speechless for a moment, “God, Mags. I’m sorry.”  
“Ah, it’s all history now. I got past it. Ya live and ya learn. Sometimes, ya gotta grow up. Life isn’t the same as the stories they tell ya.”  
“Maggie, you don’t deserve shit like that. Don’t punish yourself. I know telling me can’t have been easy, and I want you to know I appreciate that trust.”  
“I trust you, Charles. Abigail always tells me I can’t keep stuff locked up forever, she says I’ll explode or something.”  
They both slept uneasily. The thin walls of the cabin were hardly enough to keep the freezing wind out. They rose early and got back on the rode as soon as they could manage.   
As soon as they hit the area this Adam Hubert was last seen in, they slowed down, looking for any sign of someone coming through. The snow was knee deep the horses weren’t too happy about it.   
“This looks like it was a camp,” Maggie said, dismounting.   
“Fresh?”  
“The coals are still warm. I’d say very fresh.”   
Maggie looked around for tracks and found what she wanted. It hadn’t snowed much that night, so she could see crystal clear hoof prints headed along the path they’d already been following.   
“Come on, he’s gotta be close.”  
Maggie mounted back up and they followed the tracks.   
Hubert must have assumed no one was following him, if these were his tracks. He wasn’t moving fast. Maybe he or his horse was injured. They wouldn’t be sure until they found him.   
They found what used to a homestead of some sort, but it sure looked abandoned now.   
“The tracks end here, and there’s a horse in the stable over there. He must be inside,” Charles said quietly, “Let’s leave the horses here, out of sight, and I’ll go around back while you take the front door.”  
Maggie nodded and they both dismounted and approached the house. When Maggie tried the front door, it was unlocked. She slowly nudged it open, cringing when I squeaked. She pulled her revolver from its holster and looked around. The place looked like no one had been around in years. Except there was a fire lit in the fireplace.   
She went into the kitchen. The cabinets were filled with canned provisions like the sort she carried in her saddle bags. They weren’t covered in dust like they should have been if the place was really abandoned.   
“Find anything?” Charles whispered from behind her, startling her.   
“Jesus Charles, you scared me,” she turned around, breathing a sigh of relief when she realised it was him, “Someone’s definitely here.”  
“Go check upstairs alright,”  
“You ain’t said please,” she teased.   
He rolled his eyes, “Pleaase.”  
She grinned and made her way up the stairs. The first room she entered was the bedroom. There was a bedroll placed on top of the old bed frame. All signs showed whoever was here was prepared for a long stay.   
Then she heard the sound of a gun and footsteps behind her, and felt the barrel of a gun at the back of her head.   
“Shit.” She said aloud.   
“Drop your gun.” The voice was curt.   
She did. She let he gun clatter to the ground in the hopes that Charles would hear it and figure out something was up.   
“Are you Adam Hubert?” She asked while he took her sawed off out of her offhand holster and dropped it to the floor.  
“So you’re a bounty hunter are ya?” He laughed a toady laugh, “Too bad you ain’t gonna live to collect that bounty, sweetheart.”  
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, now.” Maggie turned around slowly to face him.   
“Why’s that?”  
“Wanna find out?” She saw Charles appear in the doorway.   
“You drop your gun, Hubert.” Charles put his gun to his head.   
Hubert hesitated. Maggie grabbed the barrel of his gun and pushed it upwards. When he shot, he shot the ceiling. Splinters of wood rained down around them while Maggie wrestled the gun free of his grasp. When she got control of hit, she whacked him over the head as hard as she could and he collapsed to the ground.   
“You alright, Mags?” Charles lowered his weapon.   
“Yep.” She picked up her guns, “Let’s get this bastard to Strawberry. It ain’t a short ride.”  
And it wasn’t. They rode fast, putting Hubert on Charles’ horse. He woke up after a little while but kept quiet after Charles smacked him a few times for saying nasty shit. The sun was just setting when they rode into Strawberry.   
The sheriff was grateful for their help and he paid them what was promised.   
They camped again outside of Strawberry. It was a clear night, and so much warmer than the mountains. They cooked up some rabbit meat and added some herbs so it tasted nice enough. This was Maggie’s definition of heaven.   
“Ya know Charles,” Maggie leaned against a rock, “That whole almost gettin married thing, it taught me something.”  
“What’s that?”  
“Don’t ever settle for less.”  
“Wise words,” Charles smiled, “You deserve something good Maggie. We might be outlaws but we’re still good people.”  
Maggie laughed loudly, “We’re hypocrites, Charles. That is what we are. We kill and steal and we still fool ourselves into thinking we got some kinda moral high ground. We are all fools, every single person in this country is a fool.”  
“Then let’s be fools.”  
They both chuckled.   
“Charles, right before Blackwater, Sean told me something that I haven’t been able to get off my mind.”  
“Oh boy, this oughta be good.”  
“I was gonna say something about it then, but after everything that happened, it didn’t seem so important.”  
“Alright quit with the suspense, what’d the little shit tell ya.”  
Maggie laughed nervously, she wasn’t sure if this was wise but it was on her mind, “He said... well he said you was sweet on me.”  
Charles’ heart stopped. She knew. She knew. It was all over.   
He was silent a moment, then he responded quietly, “And why are you telling me this?”  
Maggie sighed, this was not going how she’d hoped, “I guess... well I guess I was hoping it was true.”  
There. She’d said it.   
She felt blood rush to her cheeks. She’d ruined it. She’d gone and messed everything up.   
“Ya know, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said nothing.”  
“Maggie,” Charles interrupted her by cupping her face with his hands and bringing his lips to hers.   
The kiss caught Maggie off guard, but when she understood what was happening, she melted into it. Charles’ hands moved from her face down to her waist and hips, grazing her neck and chest on the way down. Everywhere he touched her, she felt she was on fire. Her own hands tangled in his hair as he pulled her closer to him, into his lap.   
He started undoing the buttons of her shirt, then he stopped.   
“What’s wrong?” Maggie breathed.   
“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, self doubt in the back of his mind.   
“You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this.” She responded after kissing him again.   
“Glad I’m not the only one.”  
He finished taking off her shirt, revealing her lacy bodice underneath. He also, for the first time, got a clear view of her burn scar. He ran his fingers along the damaged flesh.   
“Real ugly, ain’t it?” Maggie muttered.   
“I think everything about you is stunning.” He said, and kissed her arm before returning his attention to her lips.   
Maggie worked his shirt over his head and dragged her fingers down his chest with feather light touch.   
This was heaven, and they were both sure of it.


	6. Never According to Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie robs a stagecoach and has a soit with Micah that reveals she has more secrets than Charles originally believed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is very dialogue heavy. I really appreciate the reads and the kudos!

Charles woke up warm for once. Maggie’s head was resting on his chest, she still slept soundly. Sometime in the night, she’s gotten up and grabbed a shirt, his shirt. It was sweet to him. Now, he dared not move for fear of waking her. So he settled in and waited, listening to the birds chirp and watching the sun filter through the canvas tent.   
It had been a few weeks since their bounty hunting adventure and Charles and Maggie had spent plenty of time together. Waking up with her next to him was something he was happy to get used to.   
There was some kind of shouting outside the tent. It sounded like Karen arguing with Miss Grimshaw, but it was loud as all hell.   
Maggie stirred, opening her eyes groggily.   
“Good morning sunshine,” Charles said, placing a featherlight kiss on her nose.   
He was met with a small groan. Maggie was still not a morning person.   
Maggie sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, “Morning.”  
When Charles sat up, she leaned into him, letting out a yawn.   
“I need to get ready,” he smiled at her, “Javier, Arthur and I are meeting Trelawny in Blackwater to rescue Sean.”  
Maggie frowned. She didn’t like the thought of any of them going back to Blackwater, but she worried especially for Charles, “I promised Lenny and Hosea I’d help them with some robbery.”   
Maggie buried her face in his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his midsection, taking in his scent. He smelled of herbs and gunpowder.   
Charles ran a hand through her curly brown hair and kissed her on top of her head.   
They stayed like that for a moment before Javier started yelling for Charles.   
“Be there in a minute.” Charles shouted back.  
The pair got ready in a hurry and headed out to face the day.   
“Took ya long enough, Charles. Ready to go?”  
“Yeah, Yeah. Come on.” Charles muttered.   
He stopped when Maggie tugged lightly on his sleeve. He turned to her to say goodbye, but the tinge of worry in her eye made him want to ditch the whole plan.  
“Promise me you’ll be careful?” She put her hands on his chest.  
“Of course I will,” he grinned at her.  
“One more thing,” she whispered before grabbing his collar and pulls his face down towards hers.   
Anyone watching was left speechless. Charles hadn’t anticipated the kiss. They hadn’t exactly told everyone they were together. They weren’t hiding it but it hadn’t become camp knowledge yet.   
Charles melted into the kiss, but Maggie pulled away sooner than he’d wanted.   
“Keep kissing me like that, I’ll never leave,” he Chuckled softly.   
“That is motivation for you to come back to me. Please come back to me.”  
Charles gave her one last kiss on the cheek and then he left.   
Javier patted him on the back as they went. Somewhere behind her, Bill grumbled something about owing Javier twenty five bucks.   
Hosea came up beside her, “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”  
“What day?” Maggie sassed. She was just about the only person who could get away with sassing Hosea.   
Hosea rolled his eyes, “The day when you move on and forget your bad luck with love.”  
Maggie pushed past him, “Are we robbing this stage or not?”  
“Well you don’t look the part quite yet.” Hosea was grinning at her mischievously.   
She didn’t like that look, she knew exactly what it meant, “Jesus, no. I’m not doing that again.”  
“You said she’d be on board,” Lenny came up to them.   
“She is!” Hosea protested, “Aren’t you, Maggie?”  
Maggie looked between pleading Lenny and cocky Hosea, “This stage better be fucking loaded,” she relented.   
Half an hour and a painful corset later, they had Maggie all done up like a doll. Her curly hair was in a prim updo underneath one of those annoying little hats that had a veil. The corset accentuated her already thin frame. The dress itself was purple silk, and it looked expensive. The heeled boots were uncomfortable, and if she wore them too long, which was undoubtedly what was going to happen, they would become painful.   
Once Maggie looked like some beautiful, rich young lady, the trio rode out.   
Once they got closer to their mark, Maggie clarified the plan, “Okay, so I muddy up this nice skirt and run into the road and distract the drivers while yall break into the lockbox at the back.”  
“And if they catch on, pull that gun from under your skirt. Don’t shoot them if you don’t have to.” Hosea finished.   
“This should be it,” Lenny said, “Ready?”   
“Let’s do it,” Maggie dismounted and jumped in the nearby creek, getting the hem of her skirt wet and muddy.   
Then she went to the side of the road and sat on a small rock, doing her best to look miserable. Hosea and Lenny got into position just as the sound of a stagecoach rumbled into their hearing.   
Soon after she heard it she saw it. She took a deep breath, and began limping into the road, waving her hands about, “Please! Please! Help me, please!” She did her best to imitate the way someone quite rich would speak when she shouted at the coach.   
Of course they stopped, no good man would drive by a scared woman, seemingly alone in the wilderness.   
“What’s the problem, ma’am?” The driver asked, looking down to her as they stopped.   
“Oh thank goodness you stopped! I was out riding when my horse collapsed under me! I hurt my leg and I don’t know how to get home, Oh will you please help me!”  
The man tried desperately to calm her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lenny and Hosea quietly going to work on the lockbox.   
They weren’t being quick enough, she had to pull out the big guns before they would get her on the coach and get going.   
She started wailing like a banshee. She could hardly be understood, but the words “out all night” and “starving” came through the blubber.   
“He’s being robbed!” Came a voice from behind the coach. Maggie snapped her attention to two riders coming over the hill.   
“Shit!” Maggie pulled her revolver out of a slit in her skirt and pointed it at the drivers head.   
“You lying bitch!” The driver shouted while the man riding shotgun turned his attention to Hosea and Lenny.   
Two men emerged from inside the coach itself. The situation had gotten bad fast.   
The driver took Maggie’s moment of distraction as an opportunity. He tackled her to the ground, his elevated position gave him leverage. He wasn’t a small man, and the impact of her body on the ground and his body on top of hers stole the breath from Maggie’s lungs. Her revolver skittered out of her grasp.   
The man had her pinned to the dirt, meanwhile Hosea and Lenny had found cover and were trading shots with the other men.   
Maggie used her free arm to punch her attacker in the nose. He grinned and got a hold of both wrists, holding them above her head. She was painfully aware of her situation. She had little hope of escaping this mans grasp. Not unless...  
She flailed her legs until she managed to get just enough movement to bring one knee up into the mans groin. Hard.   
He gasped in pain and rolled off of her, clutching his parts. Maggie scrambled for her gun and put a bullet in his brain. Then she turned her attention to the few remaining problems. They were caught off guard by her, a moment ago she hadn’t been their issue.   
She popped one in the head, got one in the arm then the chest, and Lenny finished off the last using her distraction.   
Once they were sure they weren’t being shot at anymore, they reconvened.   
“Hosea, get that lock box open, Lenny, check the coach for any other valuables, I’ll search the bodies.” Maggie barked order, combing mud out of her hair with one hand.   
They set to work then left the scene as fast as they could.   
“Well that didn’t go as planned.” Hosea said after riding in silence for too long.   
“No shit,” Maggie laughed, “But take was pretty good!”

The sun was setting when Charles returned to camp with Javier, Arthur and Sean. It was a little alarming when Maggie wasnt there, but everyone assured him they’d be back soon. No more than fifteen minutes later, the three robbers rode back into camp, looking a little messy but overall pleased with themselves.   
“I’d guess you all made out alright,” Dutch greeted them, “and just in time to welcome back young Sean.”  
“Just in time indeed.” Micah approached the welcoming, an angry smile on his face. He was holding a crumpled piece of paper in his left hand.   
“Just in time for what, Micah?” Maggie glared at him.  
“Just in time to explain to everyone here why you’ve been writing letters back to some stranger in New York.”  
There was complete silence for a moment, then Maggie spoke up, her voice filled with rage, “I beg your fucking pardon? Did you go through my shit?”  
“Well I’m glad I did,” Micah shouted, “Turns out Hoseas perfect Maggie Smith has something to hide! Who the hell is Daniel Humphries?”  
“That’s none of your goddamned business!” Maggie tried to snatch the letter, but Micah held it above her head.   
“If it’s putting us all in danger, it is very much our business! Does Charles know about this mysterious man, huh?” Micah was pushing her buttons on purpose, “Dear Danny,” he started reading aloud.   
“HE’S MY BROTHER!” Maggie screamed, stunning everyone. She took a deep breath and regained her composure before speaking again, “He is my flesh and blood brother. He lives in New York. He and I have been exchanging letters for some time now.”  
“Why didn’t you mention it?” Hosea asked.   
“Because it was personal!” She snapped, “Pearson writes letters to his aunt without this bullshit! I dealt with a lot of shit when I left, but meeting Danny was just about the only good thing that came out of it all! Why can’t a woman just have one thing to herself?”  
Dutch glared at Micah, “How dare you go through her stuff. Give her the letter back.”  
Micah lowered his arm and Maggie snatched the paper, “If you ever go through my stuff again, I’ll kill you. Now if you’ll all excuse me, this corset is crushing my lungs.”  
She stormed off, and Charles could practically see the steam rising off her. He followed her, but not before he gave Micah a withering glare.   
In Maggie’s tent, she was furiously struggling with the ribbons of the corset. She hadn’t been able to get it on without help, but she couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes after that whole mess. Charles knelt beside her and took her shaking hands.   
“Let me,” he kissed her knuckles then began carefully undoing the ribbons.   
“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it,” Maggie sobbed.   
“Shhh, it’s alright. That wasn’t Micah’s to tell.”  
Charles helped her out of her dress. It looked pretty on her, but Maggie in expensive, feminine clothes wasn’t the Maggie he liked. Maggie in a loose shirt and high waisted pants was what he’d always known.   
Finally, he combed the mud form her hair. She’d calmed down a fair amount by then and was now humming softly.   
“There,” Charles smiled, rotating to look at her face, “Much better.”   
She was really so beautiful. The constellations of freckles across her face, her pronounced jaw and soft cheekbones. Her gray eyes that always raged with every emotion imaginable.   
That was the thing that made Maggie who she was. She felt every single emotion so deeply. When she was happy, she was the happiest person alive. When she was sad, she couldn’t even get up, except for a drink of whiskey. When she was angry, she was a hurricane that could destroy everything in her path.   
Maggie leaned into him and kissed his jaw. He tilted down and caught her lips.   
“They’re celebrating Sean’s return,” Charles whispered, “We should go say hi at least.”   
Maggie nodded, “Let’s do it then.”  
Everyone (except Micah) had forgotten all about the argumentent earlier for the time being. The focus was all on Sean, who was relishing the attention.   
“Ah, there they are!” He shouted when he saw Charles and Maggie, “A toast to Charles for aiding in my rescue, and one for Maggie for having the self control to not kill Micah, and bringing in a good take for us all today!”  
Karen handed Maggie and Charles whiskey bottles, and they joined in the toast. They sang along with the camps songs. Bill chastised Charles after handing the money he owed over to Javier: “Why couldn’t ya just keep it in your pants?”  
Somewhere in the night, Maggie and Charles lost each other. When he found her again, she was lying on the ground next to Mary-Beth and Tilly, chatting drunkenly.   
“Oh!” Mary-Beth exclaimed when she saw him, “Maggie, your prince is here.”  
Charles chuckled at the term. Maggie sat up, clearly very drunk.   
“Come on you, you should get to bed.” He said, helping her to her feet.   
Standing didn’t seem to be easy for her, inebriated as she was. Eventually Charles simply gave up and carried her bridal style to her tent.   
She fell asleep fast, her chest rising and falling softly. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, like none of their problems could touch her there.


	7. Abduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Maggie goes missing, it’s all hands on deck to figure out what happened to her before it’s too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ends on a cliffhanger, I’ll try to get the second part up soon.

Maggie knew she was in big trouble. She knew she’d messed up bad. At this moment, she was crouched behind a rock as bullets whizzed around her. A simple hunting trip had turned into a massacre, and it was almost entirely her fault. She shouldn’t have robbed Colm O’Driscoll all those months ago. She knew that, although with some of the more recent drama, that situation had somewhat slipped her mind.   
Maggie peeked over the edge to find one misguided young man in plain view. She took the shot and he crumpled to the ground.   
This was a bad situation. Really bad. It was just her against at least eight O’Driscolls.   
“Seven,” she muttered, getting another square in the chest, “No, eight.”  
Another rode out from the woods. She’d lost count of how many she’d already killed. They just kept coming. Too much longer and she’d run out of bullets. Too much longer and they’d overtake her.   
The harsh reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. She was going to die here. She was going to die here and the gang might never know what happened to her.   
She nearly choked on her own tears when she thought of Charles. When she thought of him sitting at camp waiting for her to come back. Of him worrying sick when she wouldn’t. Of him going out looking for her. Would he find her body? How would he deal with it?   
She thought of how she’d feel if the same happened to him. It made blood run cold, even the thought.   
“I love him,” she muttered to herself before taking out another enemy, “I love him!”.  
The power of that statement gave her enough angry fuel to power on. She had to get out of this. She rose from her spot and shot as many bullets as she could before ducking back into her spot to reload. But the bullet slots on her gun belt were empty. She was out of ammo.   
She had more in her saddle bags, but Gilly, her horse, had bolted at the first gun shots. In fact, anything she might need to string together even the thinnest of plans to escape this situation was in those saddlebags.   
Tears ran down her face. She dropped her revolver in the mud at her feet. Bullets flew by her head. She couldn’t give up, but what other choice did she have. She rifled through her satchel looking for something, anything. A few random herbs, a pack of cigarettes, a stack of photographs. On top of the stack was one Arthur had taken last week of her and Charles. Somehow, he’d managed to capture them in a moment of bliss, gazing at each other with adoration.   
“I love you,” she whispered, then she shoved the stack back into her satchel.   
She peaked around the rock to take stock of the situation. They were getting too close for comfort. Not that she had been comfortable in the first place.   
An unexpected shot suddenly ripped through her shoulder. Maggie was thrown backwards into the mud with a cry of pain.   
Her vision danced. The pain was unbearable.   
“Come on, pick her up,” she heard someone saying, “Boss wants her alive.”  
Then she blacked out. 

Normally, Charles went with Maggie if she was going hunting. It wasn’t about being protective, at least not entirely. It was mostly because it was one of their few chances to really be alone together.   
But Javier had needed him for something that morning, so Maggie went alone. She promised she’d be back by nightfall. Charles had gone into town and gotten her a little locket which he’d put a small picture of them together inside of, and he was eager to give it to her.  
Maggie didn’t come back before the sun set. Charles paced the edges of camp, looking for her. But she didn’t show.   
“You know her,” Arthur reassured, “she probably just got distracted. Give her another day.”  
Charles slept uneasily that night. The next day, Charles tried to make himself as busy as possible. But he kept worrying and worrying. She still didn’t show.   
Then the rest of camp started to worry. A normal hunting trip wouldn’t take this long. She was only getting some deer and rabbits, not hunting a cougar.   
On the third day with no sign of her, Dutch sent a few people to search the general area. Everyone came back empty handed. There was no sign of her. She had vanished.   
This was the exact opposite of what the gang needed right now. Another thing to worry about. Not to mention, Maggie held the gang together in her own way. She was trusted by most everyone and she solved a lot of problems.   
Charles couldn’t relax. Dutch put some strict rules on the camp until they figured out what happened to Maggie, so, despite desperately wanting to, he couldn’t go barrelling after her. Not that he even knew where to start.   
“Imagine she’s got us all so goddamned worried,” Javier said on the third night, “and she’s just piss drunk somewhere.”  
“She did that once,” Hosea’s laugh was halfhearted, covering his own feelings, “She musta been around twenty and she just vanished from camp one day. Had us all panicked searching for her, and we eventually found her in the saloon blind drunk. Apparently she and John tried to out drink each other and it didn’t end well.”  
On the fourth morning, Javier spotted a horse while on guard. As it trotted closer, he realised it was Gilly, Maggie’s horse. Her rose-gray coat was covered in blood and almost all of Maggie’s stuff was still in the saddle bags.   
“Dutch!” Javier came sprinting back into camp at breakneck speed and waking everyone up, “Dutch! It’s Gilly!” The horse followed him, she knew the way home.   
The blood was an even worse sign. It was impossible to know who’s blood it was, but they could make some pretty good guesses.   
“Send out some people,” Hosea begged Dutch when the whole camp gathered to discuss the situation, “Have someone follow the horses tracks. We need to find her.”  
“I don’t want to be the one to bring this up,” Arthur put in, “but what if she’s dead? I mean, whatever went down, it’s been days.”  
“We need to know for sure, Arthur.” John glared at him, “There’s not a chance in hell she’d give up on you.”  
“I’m not giving up! I just think we need to consider that possibility!”  
Dutch finally spoke up, “Arthur and John, will you two follow the horses tracks, see what you can find.”  
“I’m coming with,” Charles hadn’t said much up until that point.   
Dutch wanted to argue, to tell him he was too emotional, but he saw the determination in the mans eyes. He wasn’t taking no for an answer.   
“Fine. Ya know what, take Bill and Javier. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”  
Gilly’s tracks were easy enough to follow, but the didn’t take any kind of straight path. Charles could tell where something had spooked her sent her running. There were a few places where she’d run around wildly.   
They rode in pretty much utter silence for most of the trip, all too lost in their own thoughts to say much.   
John refused to think about the possibility that she was dead. They’d spent much of their teenage years together, getting into, and usually out of, trouble. In his mind, Maggie was too lively, too alive to die.   
He wondered what was going on in Charles’ head. The man hadn’t said a thing, besides pointing out details of the tracks, and his face showed no signs of grief or worry. Charles was the sort that kept all the pain in. John knew how he’d be feeling if it was Abigail or Jack. He’d be losing his mind. And if she was dead, Charles would push that pain down and chanel it into vengeance against whoever was dumb enough to hurt her.   
They’d been riding for a few hours when Arthur squinted at something up ahead.   
“Up there,” he said, urging his horse to go faster, “There’s something up there.”  
From a distance, it looked like a corpse. As they got closer, they realised it was exactly that, a corpse. Not Maggie’s, not yet. The men immediately recognised the sack hood, a trademark of Colm O’Driscolls lackeys. Their bodies were littered around the area. It was clear some kind of fight went down here.   
Something shiny, next to a boulder, caught Johns eye.   
“Guys look,” he dismounted and went to inspect it.   
It was a gun, a revolver with carvings I’m the metal.   
“That’s Maggie’s.” Charles said, his heart beating fast, blood rushing in his ears.   
“Okay so where’d she go from here?” John frowned and looked around.   
“Judging by the dried mud here, I’d say she fell, maybe was shot,” Charles examined the tracks.   
“If they shot her, why take her body?” Bill frowned, “They didn’t bury any of their friends, so why take her?”  
Javier’s eyes lit up, “Because she was still alive at the time. She stole a lot of money from Colm, he’d want it back. Thousand bucks isn’t exactly pocket change. He wanted her alive.”  
“Charles, there must be some tracks leading out of here to wherever they took her?” Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.  
“They’ll be a few days old, if they exist. Might be tough.”  
“Tough does not mean impossible. If she’s still alive somewhere, we gotta find her soon.”  
Charles nodded, fingering the locket in his pocket. He wasn’t about to lose her, not a chance in hell.   
“Bill, go back to Dutch and tell him what we found, and that we’re going after her,” Charles ordered.   
Normally Bill would argue with someone trying to take him out of the limelight, but he had no intention of getting in Charles’ way. So he obeyed while the other four continued on.   
It was nightfall before they reached the end of the tracks. Arthur suggested they set up camp and try to rest for the night. Charles argued, of course.   
“We could lose the tracks! It could rain, and they’ll be washed away!”  
“We’re no use to Mags if we show up half asleep. You need to rest.” Arthur was stern.   
He knew what Maggie would say if she was here. She’d instruct everyone else to eat and rest, although she might not take her own advice.   
When Charles did finally lay back and rest, he slept like the dead. The past few days, he’d hardly been able to sleep, he was exhausted. 

Maggie remembered little of the journey to the small basement. She guessed she was in the storm cellar of some house the O’Driscolls had taken over. There was a chill and the scent of pine in the air. Maybe they were in the mountains somewhere. It was hard to say, all she ever saw was a brief flash of light from the door outside when someone came or went from the room. At first, they left her alone. She was gagged and tied to a chair. The rope was course and painful around her wrists, ankles and throat. They had bandaged the bullet wound, but it still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.   
It was a long time, what could have been days or hours for all she knew, before anyone spoke to her. Colm himself came lumbering in, ugly teeth and the scents of alcohol that lingered on any drunk.   
“How are you doing there, Magnolia?” Colm always called her Magnolia. She never knew why he did that, if it was just another way to get under her skin or there was some motivation behind it at all. “Oh, how rude of me,” he chuckled and removed the dirty rag from her mouth.   
Maggie spit at him as soon as she had the freedom to do so. The thug watching her made a step forward to defend his boss, but Colm put a hand out to stop him, “I’ll deal with her. She and I have some business to discuss.”  
“I don’t have anything to discuss with you.” She glared at him.   
“Oh, but you do. You see, I hadn’t forgotten about that money you stole from me. You see, you’re going to tell me where that money is.”  
“I gave it to Dutch. Ask him.”  
Colm laughed, “Silly girl, why don’t you tell me where Dutch keeps that money, and while your at it, where the rest of your little friends are hiding.”  
Maggie shut her mouth. No more witty insults, or spitting on him, she had to keep quiet.   
“Fine. If you won’t talk, I’ll just have to persuade you,” He drawled as he picked up the poker that had been sitting with the tip in the flame, “I will mark you so that every time your lover looks at you, he’ll be reminded of what we did to you.” Colm picked up the photograph of Maggie and Charles and held it up, sneering. 

When Charles woke, it was still early in the morning. Everyone else was awake, drinking coffee in silence.   
“We should get a move on,” he said quietly, “We could still have a ways to go.”


	8. Never That Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles, Arthur, John, and Javier must rescue Maggie before it’s too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so damn long. Things are busy right now so posting is gonna be kinda erratic for a bit.

Maggie was exhausted. Every movement was excruciating. She’d been beaten, burned, violated. It took all the energy she had left just to lift her head. The rope had left her wrists, ankles, and throat raw and bloody. She’d barely been given food or water and her muscles screamed to be free.   
Colms words echoed in her head: No one was coming for her.   
They didn’t know where she was. They couldn’t come for her. Maybe Charles would track them down but it must have been days. Any tracks would more than likely be long gone.   
Hopelessness settled into her heart. She was well and truly done for this time.   
Maybe, if she was lucky, Colm would ransom her back to Dutch for twice the money she stole. Course, she wasn’t sure the camp could really afford that. Or maybe he’d hand her over to the law and collect the price on her head.   
It didn’t matter much now, she figured she’d bleed out or her body would just give up.   
She just wished she’d gotten to say goodbye to everyone first. 

They’d lost the tracks hours ago. In his frustration, John was prepared to give up. Javier and Arthur had no idea what to do next. Charles however, had smelled smoke on the wind. Could have been nothing, but they had no other leads. He insisted they push on, following the scent of smoke. For the first time since Maggie went missing, Charles was hopeful. He wasn’t sure what it was that made him so. Maybe it was just sheer foolishness, maybe it was some divine omen. Charles didn’t care what it was, he simply used it as fuel.   
They found the remains of an old mining town built into the mountain. The mine had dried up years ago, and the town with it, but it seemed to be bustling with people. Smoke rose up from the chimneys. And if one watched and listened, one could tell they were O’Driscolls.   
The group hid out just outside the borders, quietly scouting the area.   
“What’s our play?” John was brimming with nerves and rage, “Are we sure she’s here?”  
“No, we’re not,” Charles gazed through his binoculars, “Which is why we have to play this quiet. We need to know she’s here before we do anything.”  
“And we cant go in guns blazing, alright,” Arthur had been quiet most of the day, “If she is here, they might panic and kill her.”  
“They keep going in and out of that cellar,” Charles muttered, “Seems as good a place as any to keep someone.”  
“Charles, what if you and me went and got a little closer, tried to listen in, see if they say something about her.” Javier suggested.   
“Good idea, you two sit tight. We’ll be right back.”  
Javier led the way down the hill to the edge of the tree line. A little further and they could duck behind some boxes. A pair of men were standing just on the other side.   
Carefully, they pushed forward without a sound.   
“Christ, is she even still alive?”   
“Barely, from what I understand. Colm ain’t decided what to do with her, she still ain’t talking.”  
“After all that, you’d think she’d a said something.”  
“Well She did spit insults at me when I tried to bring her some water yesterday. Still, Colm might try to ransom her. Or maybe he’ll just kill her. I dunno.”  
Javier watched Charles’ face. He grimaced at each word. His fist tightened around the locket. Javier was impressed with his self control. If it was someone he cared about that much, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it together.   
Javier tugged on Charles’ sleeve, his signal for “lets go”. They snuck back to where John and Charles sat with the horses.   
“Got anything?” Arthur asked, causing John to look up from whatever he was fiddling with.   
“She’s here alright,” Javier muttered, “They’re torturing her.”  
“We need a plan.” Charles paced back and forth, “Javier, you and John go to the other side of camp and cause a distraction. Maybe set something on fire, I dunno. Just keep em busy long enough for Arthur and me to sneak in and get her.”  
“Shit,” Arthur whispered, trying to process what was happening, “Lets do it.”  
Charles and Arthur waited at the tree line. The minutes were agonising, but then a barn on the far side of the little ghost town went up in flames. It had the desired effect, everyone was running towards the flames.   
“Come on,” Charles led the way to the conveniently unlocked storm cellar.   
The smell of blood and burned flesh hit their noses as soon as they opened the doors. Charles gagged, Arthur held a gloved hand to his nose.   
Panic was beginning to take over Charles’ body. He hurried down the stars and burst into the room. He was lucky there were no guards around at the moment.   
Still, the sight broke his heart. You could hardly tell it was Maggie. She was covered in her own blood. Her hair was soaked with blood and sweat. Ropes dug into her skin, holding her in place and upright. Still, her head lulled to the side, and for a terrifying moment, Charles couldn’t tell if she was alive.   
“Maggie?” Charles could barely get her name out.   
She stirred. It looked like it took great effort, but she lifted her head. Her eyes were dull, none of the light that usually filled them was there.   
“Charles?” Her voice was hoarse and strained.   
Charles’ knees nearly gave out. Instead he rushed to her and began cutting through the ropes. When she was loose, she pitched forward into his arms. He could feel her light sobs into his shoulder.   
“It’s alright now,” he soothed, “you’re safe. Arthur, will you grab that blanket?”  
Arthur did as he was asked, shaking the draw off it before giving it to Charles. Charles wrapped it around Maggie’s shoulders then put an arm under her knees and lifted her. She winced and clutched the fabric of his shirt, stifling a cry of pain.   
“I’m sorry, sunshine. I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”  
The distraction wouldn’t last much longer. Arthur snatched her satchel off the nearby table and they went o make their escape. Charles could hardly be stealthy with Maggie in his arms, so they opted for speed instead. As soon as they were sure it was clear, they made a break for the tree line. Miraculously, no one spotted them. They got lucky.   
John and Javier were waiting for them with the horses.   
John nearly panicked when he saw Maggie, “Christ! Is she... is she dead?”  
“Not yet,” Charles grunted, “Lets get out of here before they notice she’s gone.”  
Arthur helped Charles lift her up into Taima’s saddle, then Charles climbed up behind her. He felt her lean into his chest, her head bobbing with every movement the horse made. He held onto her waist with his left hand.   
“Stay awake for me love, please stay awake. Are you awake?”  
She mumbled something he couldn’t understand and her hand clumsily found his, giving it a weak squeeze.   
They took off through the trees. Charles dared not slow down, he feared that if they took too long, she’d die in his arms. He kept talking to her, making sure she was still awake. She held on, even if it was by a thread.   
They held a quick pace and came thundering into camp early the next morning.   
Charles was exhausted from riding at breakneck speed all night. He felt bad for making Arthur and Javier endure the same.   
Everyone congregated around them when they returned. They were met with a barrage of questions as Hosea helped Charles lift Maggie off his horse.   
“Charles,” She croaked as he carried her to her tent.   
“It’s okay sunshine, you’re safe now.”   
Tears were running down his face. Maggie’s stormy eyes rolled back into her head as she fell unconscious.   
“Please dont die on me now,” he whispered more to himself than anyone else. 

Four days is a mighty long time for a person to be unconscious. The first few days were rough. She had a fever on and off, she required near constant attention.   
Her wounds were plentiful. Burn and brand marks lined her body. Large, ugly bruises turned purple then green as they healed. They had to dig pieces of a bullet out of her shoulder and stitch of more than a few deep cuts. She sported some rope burns, and Charles particularly disliked the one at her throat.   
But the worst was waiting for her to wake. Charles hardly left her side. Her wanted to be there when she woke up. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and tell her what she meant to him.   
Charles sat by her cot, looking though the pictures she’d kept in her satchel. There was one of them together, that one made him smile. There were a few of her with various gang members. Her and John when they were teenagers, her and Arthur in a saloon somewhere. There was one of an old woman he didn’t recognise, and another of a man who shared some features with her. There was one of her in a skirt standing with a man outside a cabin.   
He never would have guessed she was sentimental, but she kept these photographs. In some ways, they chronicled her life, the places she’d been and the people she loved.   
“Charles?” Came her hoarse whisper.   
Charles set down the picture and took her hand, looking at her face.   
“I was starting to worry you’d never wake up.”  
The usual sparkle was gone from her eyes, replaced with something he’d only briefly seen in her rawest, saddest moments. There was no sparkle, nor fire, just something akin to the trickle of a frozen stream just beginning to melt.   
Charles took one of her hands and kissed it. He’d held in all the worry and fear and pain he’d felt the last week, and now he felt a tear run down his cheek.   
“I was so afraid I’d lost you.” He looked away from her, but he felt her grip tighten around his hand.   
“I’m still here, darling. I ain’t going down that easy.”  
Easy. Easy she said. None of what she’d been through had been easy. He didn’t really comprehend how she could still joke. She was still so much of a mystery to him. He would never understand some things about her, he doubted if even she would.   
“I never talked,” she whispered, “never said a damn thing.”  
“I know.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead, “Maggie,” he dug the locket out of his pocket, “I want you to know how much you mean to me. I... I love you.”   
The words felt strange and foreign in his mouth, but once he said it, he knew he meant it. He was in love with that woman, wild and odd though she was.   
“I love you too.” A thin, pained smile spread across her face. Charles’ heart skipped a beat.


End file.
